If you are all safe, your next steps, probably, as you struggle through the bush between tree trunks of every possible size, will bring you face to face with huge upright walls of seeming boards, whose rounded edges slope upward till, as your eye follows them, you find them enter an enormous stem, perhaps round, like one of the Norman pillars of Durham nave, and just as huge, perhaps fluted, like one of William of Wykeham's columns at Winchester.

There is the stem: but where is the tree?
Above the green cloud.

You struggle up to it, between two of the board walls, but find it not so easy to reach.

Between you and it are half a dozen tough strings which you had not noticed at first--the eye cannot focus itself rapidly enough in this confusion of distances--which have to be cut through ere you can pass.

Some of them are rooted in the ground, straight and tense, some of them dangle and wave in the wind at every height.